I'm (not) Over You
by Babylawyer
Summary: Written to fill the prompt OQ accidentally ending up making out in the bathroom just to prove that they're over each other.


Robin Locksley is in her city. Robin is on her campus. Her ex-boyfriend is at an off campus party with her friends, and what the hell is he doing here?

The last she heard of him three years ago he was still the farthest across the country he could possibly be from her, in California. She has no idea what has brought him back to New York, or what brings him to a Columbia party. This had better be a one off, this is her space, and as he made abundantly clear, she was to stay out of his space, so he damn well better stay out of hers.

He'd hurt her deeply that night at The Rabbit Hole, a local pub that allowed underagers, where they'd spent countless nights listening to live music and dreaming of the future. She hasn't been back there since that night, even though she's considered going back many times just to spite him. But she knew it would call up the memory of that night, of how awful he was to her, the venom that flew from lips that once promised they'd never hurt her, so she didn't go back.

But now, here he is in her space, acting like it's nothing, but it's not. Maybe he doesn't know it is, but he's about to.

He's turned since she first caught a glimpse of him, so his back is to her as she approaches. He's chatting with her friend, Tink, who had better not have put two and two together or is in the dog house for not warning Regina he was here. She knows all about their two-year relationship in high school and how he blew her heart to smithereens when he accepted an offer from a college a six and a half hour plane ride away.

Tinks eyes widen as she sees her approach and she steps back, excusing herself as Regina taps Robin on the shoulder.

He whips around with a, "Ye—" that cuts off when he sees her.

"Why are you here?" she asks, not bothering with pleasantries and cutting right to the chase.

"It is an open invite party, isn't it?"

She glares at him, that's not what she meant and he knows it. He chuckles at her ire, and she shakes her head at him, unamused.

"Relax, love," he says, and she flinches at the casual use of a name that used to hold so much meaning, "I didn't know you'd be here."

"Don't call me that, and I am."

He's smirking, still clearly amused by this, by her, when he shouldn't be. "So what, I'm to leave?"

"This is my campus. If I'm to stay away from your space, you need to get out of mine."

He just raises a brow. "You cannot be serious."

"Oh, I am."

"Well, sorry to disappoint, but I'm not leaving."

"That's a change," she mutters under her breath.

"I see you're still hung up on the past," he says, which rubs the wrong way because what exactly is he implying? That she's into him? Hell no, that ship sailed a long time ago.

"Don't flatter yourself, Robin. I'm over you."

He smirks again, and it's infuriating. "I never said you weren't… But now I am."

Dammit! She walked herself right into that one, didn't she? Still, it's conceited of him to assume that; it's been almost four years. "I think you are projecting."

"And you're deflecting."

She rolls her eyes, "As I already stated, I am over you. Doesn't seem like the same is true for you."

"Oh, it is. I just don't have that need to say it aloud because it's actually true."

God, he is frustrating, and very attractive, which she shouldn't be noticing, but she's always found his sass just as attractive as irritating. "For fuck's sake, Robin. Stop it. What do I have to do to get you to let this go?"

His eyes light up, the corners of his mouth crinkling as he tells her, "Prove it."

She arches a brow at him because what does he expect her to do, huh, kiss him? If she did, he'd just say it proved his damn theory right. She stares up at him in a silent challenge, and she suddenly becomes hyper-aware of just how close he is, how those blue eyes are staring intently down at her lips, how his tongue peeks out to wet his own. He must have stepped closer at some point, or maybe she did because it would only take a small step to close the distance between them.

Her voice is breathless but shouldn't be, when she asks, "And how do I do that?"

"Kiss me," he whispers, leaning in slightly.

She pulls back, away from the magnetism before she does something stupid. "I'd like to reiterate my former point that it's you who is into me and not vice versa. Seeing as you just, you know, begged me to kiss you."

"And you refused, because you know I'm right."

Jesus Christ, he's exasperating. "I am not kissing you in the middle of this party."

"Excuses, excuses," he taunts and you know what, fuck it. She grabs his hand and stalks off toward the back hall, dragging him along, not bothering to check if he's okay. She wants privacy for this, doesn't want rumours flying around about her making out with some guy at a party, so when she sees the little back bathroom that most people don't know about is free, she claims it.

Once they are both inside, she shuts and locks the door, finally turning to look at him, and he's eyeing her curiously and clearly has something to say about her choice of venue.

"What is it?" she asks when he says nothing.

"Bringing me somewhere alone isn't exactly helping your case."

"Says the one who challenged me to kiss them."

He shrugs then, surprisingly acquiescent. "Touché."

Now that they are here, alone, she starts to regret this decision. She'd wanted to wipe that smug smirk off of his face, but now it seems like a bad idea. She shouldn't be doing this, she should leave, should go out there and ignore him for the rest of the night.

"See," he says and that damn smirk is back, "I knew you couldn't do it."

Fuck this, she'll show him.

She grabs him by the shirt, pulling him into her as she leans in and connects their lips. His mouth moves against hers so naturally, she forgets for a second this isn't something they do anymore. Damn, is he ever a good kisser, she'd forgotten, had downplayed it in her mind, but now she can't deny it. His tongue teases out against her bottom lip, and his oh so talented tongue makes its way into her mouth. She sighs into his mouth, as his arm wraps around her back, pulling her in so their torsos are flush together.

It's the best kiss she's had in ages, and she's loath to end it, this was to prove a point, and nothing more. She needs to pull away, needs to be the one to pull away; he can't do it first, it has to be her.

As she pulls away, their lips part with a smack, and she's breathless, which is made even worse by the way he goes right for that sensitive spot on her jaw, the one that makes her knees weak. His hands are on her ass, groping and kneading, which should not be so hot.

This is unfair, he clearly remembers what she likes, and is exploiting it. But then, two can play that game.

But no, that's not what this is, she needs to taunt him for doing this, for being so into it he forgot what the point—

Her breath whooshes out as he swirls his tongue right behind her ear then blows onto the wet skin. Fuck, fuck, that makes her instantly wet, and he knows it, the fucking bastard. No, she cannot be the only one turned on right now. She too remembers what he likes.

She claims his lips again, sucking on his tongue the way he likes, grabs his ass, then meanders away from his lips to kiss over his scruff on her way down to his Adam's Apple.

Jackpot; he's already half-hard against her, she is so winning this and hasn't even used her trump card yet.

She nips at that spot and he moans. Ha, she wins! He's breathing heavily and looking down at her, as she looks up smugly in her satisfaction.

"Why so smug, love?" he asks in a low tone that makes her throb. Dammit, that's his sex voice, and it's like she's conditioned to it now, instantly responding to it.

She grinds herself against his now full mast erection that she can feel through his pants and whispers, "Because this proves that you are the one not over me."

He lowers his lips to her ear, breathing right onto that sensitive spot, "Oh, and if I were to slip my fingers down, I wouldn't find you wet?"

That should not turn her on more, but it does. She could lie, but Robin knows what she looks like when she's turned on, knows how to turn her on, and it doesn't mean anything. He moaned first, that's what's important.

She goes to tell him such, but then his hand is sliding down her front. She shivers as she realizes where he's headed. Their eyes meet for a moment, then he's kissing her again, his fingers finding her clit and rubbing firmly.

God, does she ever want him. She fights the urge to moan loudly at the delicious pressure. It doesn't mean anything, though, it's just been a while, and she knows he's good. That's all. He used to know her body better than anyone else, so she only wants his skills, not him. He clearly wants her too, and she can break him. He will break first, and that will show him.

She kisses along his neck, her nails scouring down his chest over his shirt. He sucks in a breath in response, his hand falling away from her. She almost whimpers at the loss of contact but reins it in. She's got him good and distracted, just where she wants him.

She strokes him over his pants, but it's not really fair, he's in jeans, she's in thin leggings, it's not the same. She fiddles with his button, and undoes his fly, to even the score, stroking him over his boxers.

His jaw drops for a second, then he asks, "Are yours fair game then?"

"I was evening the score," she tells him, even though she wants to say yes, wants to feel him with nothing between them.

Maybe they could, just a one off, scratching the itch. He is the one suggesting it (sort of). His fingers hook into the waistband of her leggings as he comments, "That wasn't a no."

Okay, this is clearly his doing, not hers, so she nods, swallowing heavily as he pushes them down as far as he can. Then he scoops her up, depositing her onto the small counter, and she shuffles over slightly, avoiding the cold sink, as he kneels down to take her leggings the rest of the way off.

The sight of him on his knees make her cheeks flush and her breath stutter as she thinks of all the other times he's been on his knees for her, of how he'd kiss up her thighs, gripped at her hips, of the mindblowing orgasms from his tongue on her clit and fingers buried deep inside her.

Shit, this is not helping, but once he has them off, he starts kissing up her leg, and she sure as hell isn't stopping it. He's not even anywhere good yet, is kissing her calf, but the anticipation is making her twitch and she is already fighting the urge to vocally express how good it is. She bites at her lip hard to keep from crying out when he makes it up to her inner thigh, pressing kisses and soft sucks that make her even wetter.

Fuck, fuck, she was not supposed to get so caught up, but she needs his tongue, needs to come.

She wants to grab at his hair, direct him where she really needs because this teasing is driving her nuts, but she will not give him the satisfaction, no matter how badly she's aching for it.

He works her up that way for a while, every time getting closer to where she needs. He pushes her thong to the side so he can suck at the hinge of her thigh. It feels so amazing she doesn't even care about the mark she knows will linger.

Then he presses a kiss to her clit over the wet fabric, and she can't help but let out a stifled groan. It feels fucking incredible but she needs more.

He looks up at her, biting at his lip, then he's grabbing at the straps and she's wriggling her hips, allowing him to get them off.

He teases with this too, kissing all around her, softly sucking at her inner lips before dipping his tongue inside her. He groans, then pulls away to tell her, "You are so wet," as if she wasn't already aware.

They just stare at each other for a moment, until he dives in and finally gives her what she needs. A loud moan pops free when his tongue hits her clit, but she manages to tamp down her reactions after that.

She basks in the feeling, lets her orgasm build, right up until he ruins it, by pulling away and commenting, "See, I knew I was right."

He dives right back in, cuts off her thoughts for a moment with a particularly pleasing suck that has her hips bucking. But no, no, she is better than this, she is not losing.

She manages to gasp out, "That's—mmm—not fair. Oh," shit, she's getting close, she cannot come, not first anyway.

He looks up at her then, pausing from his task. Her clit is throbbing, and maybe she should just admit defeat and let him work her up to a spectacular orgasm. She knows it would be amazing, has two years of experience that proves it, but she's stubborn, always has been. Given the chance, she could easily get him off faster.

"What do you mean?" he asks.

She tries to slow her breathing, to get her faculties back fully so she can win this. "This isn't a real test, doesn't make you feel good."

"I beg to differ, love. But I do know what you mean." His gaze goes saucy then, "Well, I guess I have to fuck you."

He stands, pulling down his boxers and stepping out of his pants. God, is he ever hard. Oh, fuck yes, she wants that. But first…

She sinks to her knees because he is not nearly desperate enough for how close she is. She takes him in her mouth and he pants, "Oh, christ," his hands fisting in her hair.

She sucks him in deep, brings her hand in to jerk him firmly as she bobs up and down at a fast pace.

"That's… unh, cheating…" he manages between gasped breaths, and she pulls back slowly, sucking firmly until he plops from her mouth.

She arches a brow at him as she points out, "You were going down on me for far longer."

Then she swoops down again, and he jerks as he moans, "Yes, but—oh, mmm—"

God, this is so hot. She's torn because she wants him, wants to feel him fucking her through her orgasm, but then she'd lose and she's already come this far. He's magic with his fingers and tongue, never left her hanging when he finished first (unlike most of her more recent partners), so it will still be amazing when she wins.

She keeps it up, doing everything she can to whip him into a frenzy.

"Stop," he pants, and oh, is that ever satisfying. She starts to stand and he helps her up, pulling her in for a passionate kiss, when it breaks he tells her, "Can't have you cooling down too much. That'd be an unfair advantage."

She snickers, but then it's not funny because his lips are on her ear. "Turn around, love, hands against the door."

Oh god, oh god, he's going to fuck her from behind while she's standing. That's her favourite, and that bastard, he knows what it does to her, how he hits her fucking perfectly that way.

She gets in position, bracing herself against the door as she feels his hands on her ass, the head of his spit soaked cock pressing against her.

He nips at her ear and asks, "Do we need anything?"

She should insist on a condom, but that gives him a slight advantage, and it's not as though she hasn't had unprotected sex with him before. She's normally fastidious with the condoms, but she is on birth control and has been tested recently. "Are you clean?"

"Got the all clear last week in fact."

Oh, thank god. She turns her head so she can see his reaction when she tells him, "Then fuck me."

His eyes widen and he sucks in a breath, before taking himself in hand and guiding himself inside her.

Fuck, that's good. He presses in deep, right against her g-spot, and oh god. He draws back slowly, but then starts to fuck her faster, and faster, until they are both crying out softly (both muffling themselves) at each thrust. She feels her orgasm build, feels the pressure grow as he keeps it up, but knows he's faring similarly from the short ragged breaths he's letting out.

She gasps when his fingers find her clit, and no, no, shit this is too good. She grits her teeth against the rising sensation, fights against the urge to spill over because he's close, she knows he is.

She clenches on him, makes his rhythm stutter and his head fall onto her neck.

"Fuck, god," he pants, "Come for me, I know you want to, can feel how bad you need it."

He is so right about that but, "You… mmm, first."

She can't do much to urge him on in this position which is probably why he chose it, but she has control, she can hang on. He's close, so she won't have to wait long.

It becomes a battle of wills, and she's just about to admit defeat when he lets out this low, relieved grunt and starts to come. Yes! She's won. She lets it go then, sinks into the feeling that's been consuming her. It takes all of five seconds for her orgasm to swamp her, and she moans loudly, uncaring now as she spasms around him. He keeps thrusting, his fingers still fluttering over her clit as she rides out the high. Holy fuck, it's amazing, made so much better by how long she was on the edge. She feels it everywhere, in satisfying flushes all the way down to her toes.

She sags against the door as his fingers fall away and he stills inside her. He slips out a second later and urges her to turn, pulling her in for a soft kiss.

It's incredibly intimate, and she's missed this, these soft, loving afterglow kisses. She revels in them until there's a knock at the door and a bellowed, "I have to pee."

They break apart quickly, they start fixing their clothes and once they are decent she reaches for the door, but before she opens it tells him, "I won."

He laughs, and she opens the door, the disgruntled drunk man clamours in as soon as they exit. Robin waits until she's shut the door to ask, "Best two out of three?"


End file.
